In the past month, I’ve immersed myself in George’s letters, his recorded messages, my handwritten notes, and the final Zoom calls from the hospital. I’ve listened carefully. I’ve watched again. I’ve let the silence between his words speak.

And slowly, the wisdom he carried began to rise to the surface — lessons I now feel called to share.

We often assume calm will come when the waters around us settle. And when they don’t, we blame the waves.

George taught me something different.

He taught me that lasting peace isn’t found by controlling the tide — it’s found by steadying the heart.

He used to say the inside of a person is like the ocean — wide, deep, and sometimes rough.

Feelings come in waves. They can feel frightening. They can knock you off balance. But they are not the enemy.

They can be navigated. Peace isn’t about waiting for still water. It’s about learning to remain steady when the tide turns. Writing about what George taught me feels sacred.

Not dramatic — just honest.

His life proves that anyone, at any point, can rediscover purpose, stay present, and choose joy.

George had a simple way of looking at life — and that simplicity changed me.

In the months ahead, I’ll share what he showed me:

Accept what’s in front of you.
Don’t fight everything.
Learn from what trips you up.
Ride out the rough days.
Trust the order of things.
Stay close to the right people.

And remember — you can’t do it wrong if you’re trying.

Do the best you can. Keep going.